Butterfly Magic
by cherrycool
Summary: OneShot - a young Hermione shows her first signs of magic, much to the shock of her doting parents.. happy fluff ;


Oneshot – a young Hermione shows her first signs of magic, much to the shock of her doting parents. Warm fluff :)

In the bright, delciously warm sunlight of an August morning, a tiny toddler of no more than three years sat in her parents backgarden, her already plentiful bushy golden brown hair swaying gently in a slight breeze.

Hermione Granger's mother was relaxing in a deck chair, fanning herself with a page from the newspaper and keeping a fond eye on her curious toddler, who was currently chattering to herself.

Hermione loved being outside. Her house was interesting - especially the big box full of tiny people - but there was something she loved about being outside. The smell of the grass, the feel of the breeze on her small, freckled face, and the endless expansion of jungle to be explored in the Grangers' spacious garden.

Hermione was currently embroiled in a conversation with a tiny field mouse that she had found lurking inside an old flowerpot. The mouse didn't respond to her endless reams nonsense, but it was proving to be a better companion than her dolls, as it moved when she poked it.

Her father appeared, saying something to her mother, and in the several seconds that Hermione's attention left the mouse to clap at her father, the mouse scuttled away. Hermione was most upset, and proceeded to call for her new friend, much to the amusement of her parents (who hadn't seen their daughter's choice of companion, mercifully).

"How was work, dear?" asked Hermione's mother as her father poured himself a glass of lemonade from the jug on the picnic table.

Hermione was seldom interested in her parents' conversations. She felt sure she would be unable to explain that she had misplaced her new friend, so she stood up and proceeded to shuffle unsteadily further into the garden.

Suddenly, amidst a group of rather beautiful Hyacinths, Hermione spotted something. It was not her mouse friend; this new something was very colourful, very pretty, and certainly very alive, making Hermione feel sure that it was not a flower. She plodded towards it; it had fluttery wings, and a tiny, tiny body, with two long strands of what appeared to Hermione to be hair coming out of the top.

It was a butterfly.

Hermione gazed at this fascinating new creature in wonder. Its wings were flapping gently, and when Hermione reached an uncertain hand out to touch it, it froze. With a noise of surprise, so did Hermione. Her parents spotted her and smiled, recognising the pretty butterfly.

Hermione carefully cupped a tiny hand around the fluttery creature, knowing, even at such a tender age, not to hurt it. She opened her fist and brought the butterfly to eye level, and, just as she'd decided it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, it flew away.

Tiny Hermione stood still in astonishment at the loss of another new friend, and with an 'oof!', fell flat on her bottom. She looked round at her parents, surprised to find herself on the ground all of a sudden.

Mr and Mrs Granger chuckled; their daughter really was a darling.

Hermione watched the pretty blur of colour fly up, up, up … and over the garden wall. She scrunched up her eyes tightly and laughed as she saw hundreds of beautiful butterflies dancing in her imagination.

A sharp intake of breath from her mother caused Hermione to open her eyes again, and with happy surprise, she saw several butterflies hovering gently around her. She clapped delightedly, her mind soaking up the visions of beauty, and as she did, several more appeared, and then another lot, and within in seconds, Hermione was surrounded by butterflies, all fluttering around her.

"Darling," breathed Hermione's mother. "Darling … look …"

Mr Granger glanced up from the book he had been reading and started. "What the … how did … where did they come from?"

Mrs Granger shook her head in wonderment. "What should we do?"

Mr Granger was at a loss for words. "I … I don't know," he answered honestly. "I mean … they're butterflies, they won't hurt her, but … where did they come from?"

"And why are they surrounding Hermione?" added his wife, nodding.

Hermione was beside herself with delight; the beautiful butterflies were brushing past her, their soft wings tickling her face and arms. She clapped and giggled with glee, laughing at her parent's shock and bewilderment. She held out a hand, and with a whisper of noise, they butterflies clamoured to be the one to perch on her pointed finger. A big, green one with gold flecks was the lucky winner, and it fluttered its wings gracefully as Hermione gazed at it solemnly. She did not know its name, so she looked at her mother enquiringly.

"Erm … butterfly, Hermione dear," said her mother in a daze. "Bu … tter … fly."

"Bu … tter … fly," tried Hermione, her button nose crinkled in concentration. "Butterfly."

Her mother nodded encouragingly.

"Butterfly," said Hermione to the enticingly green wings before her eyes. "Butterfly. Hello, butterfly. My name is Hermione."

Ever after, Mrs Granger would blame the heat of the sun (that is, until that fateful day her daughter got accepted to a world she had previously only known in fairy tales) but she could have sworn at that moment that the butterfly lowered its green wings in what could only be described as a bow, before flying onto Hermione's nose and, upon Hermione's nod of agreement, fluttering away into the blue sky. One by one, the entourage of other butterflies followed, their papery thin wings making the softest of noises.

Hermione watched them leave with solemn eyes, waving as they disappeared. Then, without further diversions, she returned to the search for the mouse.

Mr and Mrs Granger were momentarily silent, as they each tried to digest what they had just witnessed.

"It's the weather," decided Mr Granger finally. "The weather made the butterflies behave strangely. That's all it was."

"But did you see what the green one –"

"It landed on her finger," said Mr. Granger firmly, willing himself to believe his own words. "Nothing more to it. Come now, lets … lets take her inside."

"Inside," repeated Mrs Granger faintly. "Yes … it … it might rain …"

Mr Granger glanced at the dazzlingly blue sky and cleared his throat as his wife went to pick up their protesting daughter. "Yes," he said as Mrs Granger tickled Hermione under the chin. "Yes, it might ra –"

Hermione's loud laughter drowned out his last word and his face broke into a smile as he gazed at his daughter fondly. The little family made their way indoors.

Reviews would be welcome, good or bad.. ;)


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